


Barbaric

by here_comes_the_son



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Don't Have to Know Canon, Donatello (TMNT) Needs a Hug, Donnie is a Drunk! Surprise!, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forced Prostitution, Good Older Sibling Leonardo (TMNT), Gun Violence, I Tried, Leonardo is a himbo, Leonardo is disabled, Manhattan, Marilyn is reading a book and holding back tears, Mikey is but a child, Multi, New York City, Post-Apocalypse, Protective Leonardo (TMNT), Reader is trying not to scream, Revolution, T, The Shredder is in control, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is STUPID, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tragedy, Twenty-Something Mutant Ninja Turtles, Violence, Young Michelangelo (TMNT), blue bird pills, cause why not?, i haven’t yet quite figured it out forgive me, i know it’s bad let me wallow, if the reader sees raph it is on SIGHT, raphael went to the dark side, red sand!, she will probably go for the neck though, she’s a pure baby and you guys better appreciate her, the reader doesn’t know whether to strangle him or kiss him, there is sand... everywhere, theres a gaseous storm surrounding manhattan, they protect you from the storm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26521183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/here_comes_the_son/pseuds/here_comes_the_son
Summary: You smashed the light blue pills between your hands, smearing the powder across your splotchy red face and neck. The storm howled outside of the abandoned crumbling apartment, screaming and banging against the vibrating concrete walls. A determination glowed in your vacant eyes, though you felt nothing. Who were you to end an oppression that had been going on for far, far too long? Who were you to stand up to a man who had destroyed the lives of thousands?"I won't let you go out there alone." Raphael glowered at you, chewing on the nub of an aglow cigarette, ash tumbling from the tip. He clutched a handful of pills in the palm of his hand, glancing at the boarded up windows with the red stained plastic holding back the toxic gas of the storm.He opened his mouth to protest or swear; as you swung the butt of your gun across his face. He dropped to the ground, little blue pills tumbling across the sand covered floor.You carefully picked each up one by one, popping them all into your mouth. With that, you stepped over his body into the brewing poisonous sand storm, willing yourself to not look back.
Relationships: Donatello & Leonardo & Michelangelo & Raphael (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT) & Original Female Character(s), Donatello (TMNT) & Reader, Leonardo (TMNT) & Original Female Character(s), Leonardo (TMNT) & Reader, Leonardo (TMNT)/Original Female Character(s), Michelangelo (TMNT) & Original Female Character(s), Michelangelo (TMNT) & Reader, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Oroku Saki & Raphael, Raphael & Original Antagonist, Raphael (TMNT) & Original Character(s), Raphael (TMNT)/Reader, Reader & Other(s)
Kudos: 8





	Barbaric

**Author's Note:**

> hi! So, it’s been years since I’ve written a raphael x reader, and eight years since I watched the 2012 version of the show... and this idea has been living rent free in my head so... here you go! Hope you enjoy :)

The alcohol brewed in this dilapidated hole in the wall was made out of hand sanitizer, contaminated water, and nail polish; yet, somehow, it worked. Or, that's how you convinced yourself to choke it down as you squeezed your eyes shut, pinched the bridge of your nose, and tossed the lumpy fetid liquid into your mouth. You slammed the dirty shot onto the rickety countertop, pursing your chapped lips. The drink burned, fought, stabbed, and sent roundhouse kicks against your throat, but you managed to wrestle it down before you ended up projectile vomiting on the lanky teenager who was shakily filling your drink. His head was shaved and burned with the symbol of The Foot, a red trident-like footprint, created with dye made from the red grains of sand that covered every square inch of Manhattan, and a red hot poker.

"How can you _drink_ this?"

You opened your eyes in surprise, your sharpened nails digging into the peeling wood of the bar top. Sorry, but you were trying to _not_ focus on what you had just poisoned yourself with for this _cretin_ to judge your life choices. Terrible ones, sure, but god, they were _yours_ to deal with. So, if you wanted to numb your body with something that could easily qualify as rat poison, then so be it. You didn't know they were even allowed to talk; you just assumed that Oroku Saki cut out all of their tongues with how mute they all acted. "What?" You grunted, loudly clearing your raw throat that was still cursing you out from whatever you had just ingested. Really though, you were giving him a chance to shut up, especially with the amount of eyes that were turning to stare at the both of you. A slave and a prostitute having a small conversation? Why, that could be grounds for _treason_.

The bondservant held the brown beer bottle to his nose, where a nostril had been ripped off, raw flesh still struggling to heal, as he sniffed it with obvious disgust. "I mean, it's _nail_ _polish_.” He paused, to stare at you with his bushy black eyebrows lifted in mere shock. “Won't that, like, y'know-" He waved the bottle around vaguely, the chemicals sloshing about. "Kill you?" He looked up at you with giant brown eyes, obscured by a thick curtain of eyelashes. It was obvious that once upon a time, he used to be so pretty; and it was a damn shame that this was all that was left of him.

Your shoulders stiffened as you set your jaw to the screeching echo of a singular chair scraping backwards against the sand riddled floor. _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ We're all males in this hell zone this _stupid?_

You _smelled_ his presence before you felt his heavy hand push against your shoulder, pushing along your exposed skin and along your neck. God, every single hair was on its edge, as every atom in your body screamed in anger. The bondslave was right, it did _reek_. Probably as a warning sign before it ultimately killed you. The smell permeated from every pore of the Foot Soldier's body, mixing with the oh so very _intoxicating_ scent of days old beef pouring from the mouth that was closer to your ear than you would've liked it to be. You knew the smell of meat didn't come from any animal, there hadn't been any a year into the lockdown on the city. After being quarantined for so long, no dog, cat, horse, or even _rat_ had been left alive. No, the _odor_ that made you recoil was actually human flesh. You knew the stench well, after all.

"Well, _lookie_ **here**." He drawled out the words. You didn't look at him; mostly out of spite. "Is he bothering you, girlie?" You felt him nibble your earlobe, as you tilted your head to the side. Not as an invitation, oh no; but you were trying to move your body as far away from him as you could. You simply dug your nails back into the counter instead of lashing it out with your sharpened dagger-like weapons of destruction. Mostly so that when you wrapped your hands around a paying customers neck, you could use your nails to make him bleed to your satisfaction. It was the little things that kept you going.

You didn't meet the kids eyes, even if it was _his_ fault for dragging you both into this mess. You could hear the sudden shriek of chairs being pushed as other sparsely spread out soldiers stood, stalking towards the back of the dilapidated bar. Your hands curled into the hem of your criminally short polyester dress, feeling the rusting cheap necklaces stick to your skin. _Time to go to my happy place!_ That was code for swallowing down your emotions and forcing yourself to feel and act numb. With that, you turned on that award winning smile, swirling on your barstool, saving your poor drooled on earlobe from being ripped off. It was a common injury amongst the prostitutes that roamed these ramshackle streets. Don't ask, because you had no idea the reasoning behind it either.

The Foot Soldier was ugly, let's get that straight first. There was no way of sugaring it down. It seemed as the weeks and months passed by, the lack of sunlight, fresh water, and food that wasn't canned or sliced off the discarded bodies on the street, seemed to take a toll on the men who were used as enforcers. Under the rule of The Shredder, his rules were enforced with a mere side eye that a soldier could take as a provocative measure, or, even worse, an invitation. The carnage had been intense. Hundreds upon thousands murdered, as the days of the present seemed to hold onto the souls of a few more survivors, that which included _you_.

You leaned forward, feeling the tight red dress that was more of a plastic tube top that you had to wrestle onto your damp body every morning, tighten around your poor dress, constricting your lungs and any free movement. It was a more effective restraint than any chains, plus, it marked you as a prostitute. And that made you even more angrier. To be labeled in such a way, just because you were cursed with a reproductive system that was a computer port for a thumb drive to be slammed into. You raised a hand to stroke the soldier's face, stubble irritating your skin and raising angry prickling bumps that you would probably scratch at wildly, tearing at your own flesh with your pointed nails. You tilted your face towards the side of his head, humming gently into his pierced ear, along with scars that curled along his jawline, and a tattoo that snaked down the turtleneck of his uniform, which all seemed to egg you on.

You didn't want to waste too many brain cells on the effect that you were having on this man that could easily put a bullet in your stomach if you displeased him or made a wrong move. All you wanted was to teach him, and the other surrounding cannibalistic sharks a lesson. A chorus of obscene catcalling and laughter only seemed to make the hatred deep seated in your stomach burn and call out like a brewing dragon. Placing a hand on his chest where his bones poked through, you made your move.

You perched the tips of your heeled shoes against the foot rest, stood up slightly, and wrapped your teeth around his ear. As soon as he wrapped a hand around your hip, either to grope you or push you away, you jerked your head to the side, feeling the spray of blood strike against your face.

 _Who knew that ears could so heavy?_ You thought with a surprised _huh_ , as you opened your mouth and let the ear drop onto the floor with a unceremonious splat. With a wide grin flashed towards the horrified soldier, you turned away from him, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You wrapped your hand around your pitiful little shot glass that looked as if it hadn't been properly washed in a year, tossing the burning liquid into your mouth. You slammed it onto the tabletop, shuddering loudly as the shell shocked soldier stared at his poor detached ear that lay on the floor next to his foot. You smiled at the wide eyed bondservant, who had backed up against a nearby wall in anticipation of having his throat slit. You weren't sure if your smile was more or less a grimace or even a warning of your thinning patience, but at least he wasn't lying dead on the floorboards covered by an thick layer of red sand.

The point that you had wanted to make had been heard loud and clear by the so called 'buddies' of the foot soldier who was crouched on the floor, blubbering about his ear and feeling the gaping bleeding hole on the side of his head. But, it certainly didn't make you feel any better; it only increased your anxiety as you drummed your nails against the countertop. Who knew when their confidence would be rejuvenated by a few more drinks? "Won't you be a dear and hand me some more of that poison?" You hummed, balancing on the foot rest of your barstool, peering over the wooden surface at the cluttered workspace. It seemed like an exact representation of Donatello's desk, filled with jars and containers of chemicals and anything that could force you into a high. 

The bondservant scampered forward, grabbing a bottle by his neck as he held it out to you, stiff and awkward as ever. There was panic in his eyes, as they flickered from you to the crowd of blood thirsty soldiers. His fear only seemed to fuel your insanity.

You kept on smiling. Things were only turning out to be better and better, as you snatched away the bottle. Wouldn't that red masked bastard be proud of you right now? "And let that be a lesson to you-" You snickered loudly, pointing a sharpened fingernail at the kid. "Keep your mouth _shut_ and _out_ of my business." You popped off the cork, and took a swing. You made an internal noise that emitted from your throat, shaking your head violently. You held up your pointer finger, popping your lips as you dragged yourself off of your bar stool. Your ankles seemed to bend and quake in a little dance, trying to regain your balance in your hellish four inch heels. Torture devices, all of them.

You tilted the tip of the bottle back to your lips, trying to take in as much as you could before you poisoned yourself. It burned, it seared, but it _numbed_ you and that's _exactly_ what you needed. You held up the pitcher, the liquid jostling about as you gazed upon the beaten faces of the bored weathered down men of the bar. "Who wants to see me smash this bottle against this bastard's face?" You called out, motioning vaguely to the keeled over foot soldier who, you were sure, was partly deaf at this point. Mostly due to the fact of how slow his reactions had become. It brought a rush of adrenaline that only fueled your drunken stupor. You dragged your tongue over your front teeth, feeling the film of homemade alcohol stick to the enamel.

A hand rose nervously from a table to your right.

"Awe." You sighed loudly, feeling your pungent breath smack against your face. "Only one answer?" You took another dramatic swig of the bottle, feeling it's burning warmth pool into your stomach. "Then _one_ swing!" You flipped the bottle in your grip, and smashed the end of it against the foot soldiers head, the glass exploding around his head and embedding itself into his flesh.

The waste of human existence slumped against the wall of the bar counter with a groan, his eyes unfocused and confused. If this had been any other situation, you would've felt a bit of remorse if you hadn't been the one inflicting pain. But you already felt how his hands had roamed, feeling the ghost of every monster that had ever touched you; as if it had been a favor to you. Your trauma only made you tighten your grip on the neck of the bottle as if it was his.

At the notion of violence, every other man jumped from his seat, rushing forward to watch the show. Things got boring when all there was to do was harass women and chase down any able bodied human as if it was an animal to hunt down for sport. This was a captivating rare scene! And the added fact that this prostitute had ripped off this man's ear was the only barrier that kept any other soldier from intervening. They didn't trust their peers to support them, and they were _really_ sensitive about protecting their ears, a few unconsciously rubbing their earlobes with grime covered hands.

"Damn." A soldier stood beside you, his hair sticking to his forehead through a sheen of sweat as he grinned. His teeth were stained yellow, how marvelous. "Who knew that Raphael's _wh_ -"

You quickly shut him up by sticking the shattered end of the bottle into his mouth, slashing against the corner of his mouth, ripping open his cheek to reveal his teeth. He catapulted back, collapsing on the ground with a scream. You turned back, rolling your shoulders as wielded the bottle as if it was a baseball bat, adjusting your weight to lean on the back of your heels. No matter how tight the straps were that seemed to hold onto any sweat, or how the areas of pressure were covered in calluses and open wounds that seemed to invite any grain of sand to invade it's crevices. The dried blood on the temple of your face, and how the tips of your toes was stained with the ichor only churned up a bloodlust that could not be contained.

"Do it _again_!" Screeched the bondservant out of pure desperation. "What are you _waiting_ for?" The kid cried out, half of his body dragged over the countertop as he peered down at the foot soldier with a breathless expression on his face. He quickly flipped off the soldier, before ducking back into his workspace before any knife or chair could be thrown at him. The foot soldier only let out a moan, either in confusion or a plea to stop; but who cared? He was only drowned out by his fellow peers.

The chorus of yelling, taunts, jeers, and scattered catcalls was all you needed to go for the second swing, as if you were on a green field of an adoring crowd of fans, with only beige sand. The situation couldn't have been any more different, as you took a few skips forward, (quite hard to perform such a trick on a ground that was covered by a layer of blood red sand that could barely be swept away) feeling your heels crunch and scrape against the grains.

You hefted your arms above your head, feeling the careful drops of pungent liver destroying alcohol plop onto your forehead, burning at the scratches on your forehead, earned from a particularly rambunctious client. He really liked to go for the face, but he had plenty of little bluebirds that were becoming harder and harder to come across.

The entrance door streaked with red groaned open against the mountain of sand hefted against it, and the little rusted bell above let out a pitiful rattle, announcing a well known patron.

You paused, your head slowly turning as the bottle seemed to weigh heavier and heavier in your skeleton like hands. Weighing vengeance against an abusive waste of air really took it out of a girl! The crowd seemed to turn as well, a few muttering under their breath about the fun being ruined, as they awkwardly shuffled in unison to address the newcomer.

Their sulking expressions changed quickly as their gazes fell upon a lovely young woman; and dressed in a red tube top as well. It triggered one singular thought that seemed to be echoed by every person with a xy chromosomes.

She was pretty and youthful, checking off every point on the soldiers increasingly dwindling lists, standing out against the entrance of the bar. Covered with wallpaper that had been peeled off long ago, revealing drywall that may have once been white, but was stained with a gruesome red that made any normal person grimace and squint in distaste. She moved like a newborn foal, her thin yellow undertone marked legs shaking in her heels as she moved across the hills of red sand blown into the bar by the nightly violent storms. She looked up with a nervous smile that made one soldier sit down in pure awe, a quite different response than that _you_ were accustomed to getting.

You simply sighed, letting your arms fall to your side as the bottle fell from your scratched up hand and rolled to a rest against the twitching leg of the soldier. You tugged at the top of your tight top, eyeing quietly at the frozen soldiers and men that you knew from your time whenever you visited the marketplace in Times Square. Or, what was left of it anyway. You reached towards the folded trench coat on the stool in front of you, yanking it towards you as you shrugged it on. You rolled your eyes at the similarly dumbfounded bondservant. At least he wasn't staring at _you_ like a hunk of meat.

You shouldered your way through the crowd of roughly eleven males, shoving aside anyone who was too astonished to move. You fumed silently, thinking back to how moments ago, you had torn off a man's ear with your teeth. And not just any man! A _foot soldier!_ Such a stupid move usually demanded a public execution, not that there had been one since the early days when there had been over one million New York citizens trapped in this war zone. Making your way towards the entrance, you caught the bony elbow of your friend, who was smiling as politely and _sanely_ as she could at the pack of ravenous wolves before her that were ready to tear her limb from limb. You felt a shiver down your spine. That statement had more truth to it than you would've liked to say.

"They seemed... nice." She hummed, bobbing up and down as if she were a damn chicken, her lanky legs struggling to match up with your pace. The dilapidated bar door swung close behind you both, as you stepped into the off-putting red glow of the night sky. There were no stars, no visible moon, only red. It's radiance pressed up against the sagging buildings, which seemed to teeter and peer into the streets covered with red sand. It felt as if you had stepped into the sahara desert that had been stained with a giant's blood. The only signs of a former life were the slumping signs with missing letters or smeared titles, and the light post that had been twisted and bent by the harsh wind storm. The metal was covered with bubbles and bumps from the poison that afflicted it. Oh, and it was stained with red! Everything that didn't move fast enough was speckled with that damned blinding hue. Man, did you hate that color. For reasons that you were too bitter to divulge in.

"I really hope I didn't interrupt anything, Y/n." Her soft natured voice interrupted your brewing thoughts once again as she looked up at you with those large pools of dark brown, extenuated by her features that came through her Chinese heritage, swaying side to side as if she couldn't quite comprehend the severity of the world you both lived in. Her already short skirt was hiked up to dangerous levels, slanted as if someone had tugged it up. There was fresh lipstick staining her mouth, but it did little to hide the cut on her bottom lip. She chewed on her nails, peeling off chunks and pieces as they fluttered onto the silt. The little hints of abuse across her skin only made you glance back through the scarlet glass of the bar, where the soldiers stared back. That same poisonous feeling churned in your stomach, though that was just whatever alcohol that had been brewed in the back of that building.

You sighed, reaching out to awkwardly pat her head as you pursed your lips. What did she want you to say? She had ruined a perfect karma invoking moment of exacting revenge on a scapegoat that represented everything that was wrong with Oroku Saki's regime, and she had interrupted with her doleful eyes and pouting, constantly quivering bottom lip. "It's fine, Marilyn." Your words sounded stilted and fake, but already her eyes shone with admiration, as if she dutifully believed every word that left your mouth. "I was just putting on a little show for our..." You inhaled deeply, your eyes flickering to a shattered window located high above on the intrusive building before you. A white light winked at you. "Soldiers."

Marilyn smiled, continuing to pick at her peeling dark blue nails as she laid her head against your forearm. It held a comforting sort of weight to it, but it only made your shoulders stiffen up. Always ready for a fight, weren't you? "Oh, good." She sighed, wrinkling her button nose as she scraped the toe of her heels against the sand. With two strokes, she drew a heart. "They deserved every single second." Her usually soft toned voice seemed to drop an octave, hiding a tone that you had never heard from her.

Your head snapped from glaring at the camera to look down surprised at the petite teenager, with her natural brown hair growing out attached to the wilted bleach ends of her short hair. She only kept on smiling that little secret grin of hers, as she ducked her face to let strands of hair cover up her mischievous grin. You simply bit down on your bottom lip before a grin slipped from you, ruffling up the back of her loose curls. "Yeah, they do." You glanced at a rooftop obscured by a heavy cloud of scarlet, crackling white volts contained only to the top of that building. "Don't they?"

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I’m writing but I hope you enjoyed what you read at least! <3


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